We had just come home from running a quick errand.  We only needed one thing at the store.  Master has a tiny bottle of milk, and he runs into the kitchen in the blink of an eye and brings back a small, shallow kitty dish.  It is purple and pretty sturdy.  He pours the milk in the bowl and literally walks away.  I know the milk is for me.  I crawl over to the bowl, and start lapping it up.

Clink.  Lick.  Clink.  Lick.  Clinklickclinklickclinklick.

The “clink” is the sound of my metal collar as it taps the metal kitty bowl between licks.

Master is paying no attention to me.  I don’t need him to either.  I am in my own little world, as I lap up the milk he put down for me.  I like the difficulty of trying to lick it up like a kitty, even though (unlike a kitty) I don’t have a furry tongue.  I keep licking.


Master is paying attention now.  Laughing hard.  I bring my face up from the bowl, my chin dripping with milk.

“I can’t reach the bottom of the bowl with my tongue anymore!  I have to SLUUUURRRRPPPP!”

Master laughs, and he goes back into the kitchen and tops my bowl off with the rest of the milk.  I drink it all and then lay on my back, content, awaiting tummy rubbies.

Master rubs my tummy.

I am happy.


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